


Secret Admirer

by Melpomene21



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-10-05 17:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melpomene21/pseuds/Melpomene21
Summary: For years Jane Shepard has been receiving gifts from a Secret Admirer.  Following the defeat of the Reapers, she finally decides that she wants to unmask the culprit.  As with everything else in her life, all doesn't go quite as planned.Written for TinderWulf.  :-)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinderWulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinderWulf/gifts).



Commander Jane Shepard stepped out of the small lavatory and stared at the hospital bed for quite a long while. As she had repaired herself these last several months from the effects of the final battle with the Reapers, that unassuming, glorified gurney had been her prison and her refuge. And now, sitting atop the disheveled bed clothes sat something familiar. Jane opened her mouth and release an emotion-filled breath.

The universe had changed. _She_ had changed it. And, as all the species across the entire galaxy began the daunting task of rebuilding and repairing, Jane Shepard stood staring at the neatly wrapped package on her hospital bed and smiled. She was thinking that while everyone was busy licking their wounds and struggling to stand up again, she was all at once a little happy to see that some things had not forever been changed. That _this_ little ritual had somehow survived.

She took a few tentative steps towards the bed, looking around uselessly, she knew. Her secret admirer, a constant companion for a few years now, had never, ever once been close to being caught. Not even the tiniest hint. No lingering smell of soap or cologne. No hurriedly fading footsteps down a corridor or a door gently closing as she entered. No signature left by the type of gift. Always something she needed and desired, but never anything that narrowed down those that might be aware of that current need or desire.

Of course, she thought, as she ran her finger along the delicate ribbon of the packaging, it had to be one of a very few. Probably one of her crew. A few times she had sat at her desk, exhausted from one thing or another but unable to rest, and wrote down every single gift, the location it had been found, the type of wrapping, the significance. A convoluted diagram that would make any conspiracy theorist proud. But nothing ever came of it. 

She leaned against the bed next to the gift and stared at the hospital window remembering. She had only ever asked one person about it. The first person that had sprang into her mind once the little surprises had begun to form a pattern: Liara. Liara, who had been just as mystified and intrigued as Jane herself had been. And later, once becoming the Shadow Broker, had even asked if Jane wanted to find out once and for all.

“Do you know already?” Jane had asked her, with her eyes darting away to look at some very interesting dust on a shelf in a corner.

“I do.” Liara had replied and Jane could just _hear_ the smile behind those two words.

Jane had lifted her chin defiantly, daring her old friend to comment on the color painting her cheeks as she stated emphatically, “No. If someone wants to play some childish game.” She shrugged, looking away again. “Then let them. I’ll find out eventually.”

But she hadn’t. She hadn’t _found out eventually_. And over the years she had started to look for them. Look _forward_ to them. The gifts. She had played games trying to leave hints with a select few people to narrow her list down, like cleverly finding the murderer in a game of Clue when she was younger. And then, after receiving them, she would look for their owner. Scanning the faces of her crew, looking for any hint of merriment or mischief. Studying their familiar faces and looking for the stranger amongst them that had chosen to take on this secret role.

All to no avail.

And here, at the end of her proverbial journey was another gift. Proof positive that her secret stranger had survived when so many hadn’t. Proof that some things would go on as before when so many things wouldn’t. And proof that their secret desire to play this game with her had survived, too. Whatever that desire was. Whatever it was that fueled it. 

She picked up the gift. A fairly large box, but not heavy. She shook it. 

There was no routine. Sometimes they were in simple, plain boxes and she would stare at them for a long time, sometimes days before finally succumbing to opening them. Sometimes they were wrapped elaborately and she took pleasure in tearing into them. Took pleasure in destroying the time and effort someone had put into it. Sometimes she opened them gently and tucked away the ribbons and paper beneath the casual clothes that she never seemed to get to wear. 

But sometimes they appeared naked and exposed, no wrapping, no bag, no box, just there. Many times she grew very introspective at the insightfulness of a certain gift. Very often she was surprised to find that someone knew her quite that well. Some gifts made her laugh when she desperately needed it. Some had made her fight back tears. All had made her _feel_.

She shook her head and brushed off those thoughts. Her fingers had mostly healed, but still, it hurt a little bit as she unwrapped the ornate ribbon and tore at the thick, expensive wrapping paper. There was hesitation on her part as she lifted the lid of the box, ripped the delicate tissue paper and pulled on the golden sticker securing it in place. It was really no surprise what she found staring at her there. Today she was being released from the hospital. Sure, clothes had been provided for her to walk out in. _Civvies_. But these were military. Regulation. Familiar. Her favorite. 

The tips of her fingers, still sensitive from the skin grafting, ran along the soft, breathable mesh of the white undershirt. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as the comfy, boy briefs fell out from within the camouflage cargo pants. Thick, dark socks. The ones she had to fight the Normandy SR1’s requisitions officer to find and get for her. Her sports bra, in the right size. Shoes in the right width. All very personal. All very correct.

Holding the coveted socks in her hands, she scooted back and sat down on the hospital bed. She had often wondered what this was. What category of game it fell into. Was it a friend taking care of her needs? Like Wrex or Ash? That seemed more likely than a would-be lover. More likely than some elaborate show of affection. For, what potential suitor would be patient enough to play this game with her for _years_? And who? Who besides Conrad Verner would hold a torch for her for this long?

Admittedly, when she had asked Liara all that time ago, she _had_ thought that it must be some sort of a vehicle toward a relationship. A courting ritual, of sorts. But later, when it had dragged on for so long, she had convinced herself that it must be just a buddy, a crew member, looking out for her. Joker or Chakwas. Someone that truly cared for her well-being and enjoyed seeing her taken care of, if only from afar. More and more likely, she had thought, that it must certainly be Wrex if only because Garrus could never keep a secret from her. But then again it was hard to imagine her large, lumbering krogan brother playing at a game of stealth. 

Maybe the first time had just been a lark. And then maybe the game had carried on longer than even _they_ had ever originally intended? Maybe they had thought the great Commander Shepard could not be duped for this long and now they were compelled to see it though to its end? She looked down at the socks in her hands. Such a nice touch. So _personal_ , as far as she was concerned. More personal than the sports bra and underwear, really. 

Maybe it _was_ more? She sighed. It had been a long time since she had thought about that word: _more_. More was for other people while she fought to preserve their right to it. More was for people with time and energy leftover after a day of work. More was for people whose work days eventually came to an end. More was not for Commander Shepard. But...maybe that was something that might’ve changed. That _could_ change. That might be a _good_ change.

The hospital room was quiet, as if in silent agreement. Soon she would walk out of here, after her tortuous months of rehab. Everything, since her first assignment onboard the SR1, had come to a definitive end. Today, from here, she would need to reinvent herself yet again. No longer the fresh-faced new recruit, she was turning her cheek toward a whole new world, literally. What might that world bring? She couldn't pretend that she hadn't spent the better part of her recuperation thinking about that. Another assignment? Another crew? Another impossible odd to beat. Another...

She stood. Maybe it _was_ time for more. Maybe it was time for something different. She looked down at the gift lying on her bed and thought that maybe it was time for this last little remnant of her previous life to come to an end as well?

“Almost ready?” Liara’s voice came through the crack in the door, accompanied by a light knocking.

“Come on in,” Jane replied.

“We’ve secured a back entrance and Javik is reluctantly fielding the ‘last prothean alive’ questions to try and keep the press at bay.” The asari had entered the room talking quickly with her eyes buried in the datapad in her hands. When she looked up to find Shepard dressed in a hospital gown with the remnants of the wrapped present strewn on the bed, her eyes blew open wide as she said, “Oh.” 

Jane nodded. “Yeah. Oh.”

Liara looked behind her to the half-opened door as if expecting to see the guilty party standing there. Turning back, she asked, “Is that still happening?”

Jane lifted the dark socks up in full display. “Apparently so.”

Liara smiled knowingly. “Your favorite.”

Jane did not smile back. “Who is it?”

“Who’s wha-,” Liara started and then as dawning clouded her expression, she stopped herself mid-sentence. She cleared her throat and looked a bit uncomfortable. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” Jane replied without hesitation. “I think it’s gone on long enough. I’d like to put it to bed, so to speak. In the rearview mirror, along with…” She looked away, down at the fatigues folded haphazardly in the box. “Along with everything else,” she continued, looking back at Liara. “My last unconquered nemesis.”

Liara smiled again and then her expression turned thoughtful. “It’s not a nemesis, Shepard.”

Jane turned toward the bed and began to sort through her clothing and get dressed, shimmying the cotton boy briefs on beneath her hospital gown. “They’re the last thing standing that has been able to outwit me all this time. They’ve outlasted The Illusive Man, the Collectors, husks, the Reapers, Kei Leng, Udina. You name it.”

“True,” Liara said with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Since back on the SR1.”

After pulling the sports bra down into place, Jane turned around and looked at Liara. “Back when I thought that it was you.”

Shepard took a little bit of pleasure from the blush that crept up Liara’s neck. Even as the Shadow Broker, to Jane, Liara would always be the naive archaeologist that she had rescued on Therum. “Yes,” the asari replied. “I remember wishing that...that I _had_ thought of it, honestly.”

“We would’ve never worked,” Jane replied good humoredly as she pulled the long-sleeved white shirt over her head and began to roll up the sleeves. “I’m way too selfish and self-centered. And you’re too giving. I would’ve sucked you dry and you would’ve ended up resenting me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Liara replied. “But you’re right. We are better as friends.”

Jane pulled her pants on and tucked her shirt in before she fastened them. “So who is it? I can tell your stalling. Christ. Is it Sparatus or something?”

Liara laughed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Sparatus? Goddess, no. It’s-”

“Goddamn, Lola,” James interrupted, barreling into the room without knocking. “What’s taking so long? Let’s get this party moving, huh?”

Jane leaned against the bed, unperturbed by James’ entrance as she laced up her boots and gave Liara a glaring look.

Liara shrugged and smiled a bit triumphantly. Apparently she had been enjoying the game a little more than Jane had realized and maybe wasn’t ready for it to be over.

James whistled when Jane finally finished dressing and stood. “You still got it, Lola. Unh.”

“Let’s go,” Jane replied, ignoring James’ comment as she started out the hospital room and stepped toward her new life.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a good five or six days later before Jane had any time to think about getting the information on her secret admirer from Liara. First, Liara had conveniently disappeared and long range communications weren’t quite up and running just yet. And second, there had been a litany of forms, interviews, meetings and examinations before the hero of the universe could be cleared for duty again. As it was, she was on _restricted_ duty and that, she suspected, was only thanks to Hackett going to bat for her.

“I think it might do more harm to her emotionally to sit and let her stew in her thoughts, don’t you?” He had asked the military tribunal in charge of her case.

Jane had folded her arms across her chest and sneered at the panel of doctors and psychiatrists. Alright, they weren’t exactly a ‘tribunal’ but to her they felt no different than the idiots that had sat in judgement of her back in Vancouver.

“As her Commanding Officer,” one of the female doctors had replied slowly, deliberately and way too snootily for Jane’s taste. “We will agree to remand her to your custody.”

“Yes!” Jane couldn’t help the victorious yelp that escaped out of her lungs as she stood.

“ _Understanding_ ”, the doctor continued very sternly. “That she will be performing light duty until she is fully cleared for active duty by this committee. Absolutely no exposure to combat.”

“And no traipsing around on the _Normandy_ ,” one of the psychiatrists added. “She shouldn’t be put in charge of a crew until she has completed her prescribed sessions.”

Jane made a face and grumbled at the thought, but Hackett just politely agreed and shook hands with everyone before showing her out.

When the pair was out in the hallway and far enough away from the door that Jane thought it was safe, she cursed, “Fuck, that was exhausting.”

“Shepard.”

She rolled her eyes. Apparently the farther up the chain of command one rose, the more intolerant of foul language one became. She huffed out a breath from down deep in her belly. Even light duty felt freeing as hell. “So, where to next?”

Hackett was walking purposefully down the halls of the makeshift command center. “You should schedule those sessions,” he said, without missing a step. “And continue your rehab.”

Shepard made a face. _”And?”_ She asked.

“And what?” Hackett replied, turning a corner and stepping into a small office. “You heard the doctors.”

“Yeah,” she said, following him inside the room. “No combat. Surely there’s something else I could be doing.”

Hackett rounded a desk and took a seat. Seeing the expression on her face and reading her posture, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together as he spoke. “Look, Shepard. I thought it was important to get this temporary release so that you would be reporting to me again. Honestly, it was more for _their_ protection than anything else.” He sat back up and began to look at the datapads on his desk. “I know firsthand how you can be.”

“So, what?” She replied, getting angry. “That was just some bureaucratic red tape? Just so _you_ could tell me no instead of them?”

He nodded. “Precisely.”

“Fuck that,” she said, not caring about his delicate ears. “I’m going crazy here. There must be something.”

“There is,” he said, turning his full attention back at her. And before she could get too excited he raised his hand up and continued, “A desk job. _That’s_ what light duty officers get. Do you want a desk job, Shepard? Typing up reports? Answering call logs?”

Her mouth fell open but nothing but hot air came out of it. Leave it to Hackett to find something worse than psychiatric evaluations to bribe her with. But she was not that easily placated. “There’s got to be something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Something in between hell and high water. Like...like, what do you do all day? What’re you doing this afternoon?”

His eyes darted away from her and he sat up, resting his elbows on his desk as he began to look at his terminal. “That’s,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s out of the question.”

Jane pounced, rounding to the side of his desk and craning her neck to look at his computer screen. “What? What is it?”

With a flick of his wrist he cut the connection before leaning back again and looking at her. “It’s out of the question,” he said. “I can’t guarantee that there won’t be combat.”

 _Eureka!_ That sounded like fucking heaven. “I’ll stay in the back. First sign of trouble I’ll hide. You won’t even know that I’m there.”

He shook his head and let out what sounded like a chuckle, but she had never seen the stoic admiral laugh before, so she couldn’t be sure. “I’m not some greenhorn, Shepard. I know you. I’ve read every one of your damned mission reports. You’re a _vanguard_. Always will be.”

“Please,” she said. “I’ll walk behind you at ten paces-”

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“You’re going _somewhere_ ,” she said. “Somewhere other than a hospital room. Or a rehab unit.” She stood up straight, sobering and a little surprised by the emotions flooding into chest. “Please. You don’t know how bad I need this.”

He sighed and ran his hand across his face. “I understand better than you think, Commander.” He looked at the piles of datapads littering the top of his desk. “Contrary to popular opinion, I wasn’t born behind this desk.”

“I would never think that, sir,” she said seriously.

He nodded. “Thanks.”

Her eyes followed the line her finger drew across the edge of the piece of furniture. “This desk isn’t nearly vintage enough for you to have been born behind it.”

A stony expression slid down across his face at her joke. “For someone who is begging for a favor, making wise cracks about my age doesn’t seem too smart.”

“You left yourself open pretty wide there, Admiral,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You know I can’t help myself. It was practically entrapment.”

“Practically,” he repeated, skeptically. “Right.”

“So where are we going?” She asked, eager to change the subject.

The old man sighed as he flicked his screen back to life. Shepard smelled blood in the water, taking that as a good sign. “I’m pulling a group together,” he began. “To return to the Citadel for a reconnaissance run.”

She danced a little on the tips of her toes as she read the mission report over his shoulder.

He raised his hand up to calm her. “A strictly look and leave. We aren’t expecting any trouble. There was practically nothing alive but… _you_ the last time we sent anyone up there.”

Her dancing feet halted midstep and the mood in the room visibly shifted. Shepard tried not to think about Anderson or the piles of bodies that she had crawled through to get to the end. Or the billions of citizens still missing from the iconic space station. She shook her head of those thoughts and focused on Hackett’s words. “Practically?” She asked.

“Those creatures,” he explained. “The Keepers, seemed to have survived. With luck, they’ll have done some of the cleanup for us.”

“With luck,” she repeated under her breath sinking back into her memories. All of a sudden manning a call log not seeming so bad.

“Look, Shepard,” Hackett said, reading her mood. “I can understand if you don’t want to go back there.”

She shook off those feelings once again. Getting back on the horse was a slogan of hers since childhood, when there had been actual horses. “No,” she replied. “I do. And I’ll stay back. I promise.”

* * *

Just a few hours later and she was part of a platoon heading up to the looming Citadel. There were several familiar faces in the packed shuttle. It was total shit, losing her crew, and it was no less shitty seeing someone else pick and choose among them for missions. Ash and James were here, connected at the hip, it seemed. Wrex and Tali had already headed to their respective home planets but Jack and a few of her older students were on board in case of any heavy lifting. Garrus and Grunt were on either side of her, probably paid by Hackett to keep her in check. 

This wasn’t really Miranda’s thing, so it wasn’t a surprise that she wasn’t here. Javik wasn’t a _joiner_ by any means so his absence was expected. But this was right up Kasumi’s alley and Shepard scanned the crowd of faces wondering if the thief was hanging around incognito. That only left a few of her crew missing. Joker was with EDI and Traynor teaming up on the _Normandy_ repairs. Jacob was waiting for his baby to be born and Zaeed and Samara had disappeared as soon as they had said their farewells shortly after Jane had woken up. 

And then, of course, there was Liara. The Shadow Broker hadn't been a much of a surprise addition to this little field trip and Jane looked across the sea of faces and locked onto the tips of the blue crests that she could see on the other side of the shuttle bay. Long range communications had prevented her from continuing their conversation at the hospital, but short range messaging was working just fine and now seemed a good a time as any.

Jane glanced over at Garrus and then at Grunt. Each were absorbed in their own version of mission prep. Grunt’s involved gradually increasing bouts of snoring and Garrus’ included the upbeat tempo of club music seeping through his visor’s audio output while his eyes were shut. Shepard knew that Garrus wasn’t sleeping and could open his eyes at any moment, but she tilted her arm and powered up her omnitool anyway.

_JShepard: Liara?_

She watched the ready button beep steadily for what seemed like an eternity until the asari’s reply finally came through.

_LTSoni: Jane._

_JShepard: Who is it?_

_LTSoni: Shouldn’t a ‘knock, knock’ come first, or something?_

_JShepard: Don’t be coy._

_LTSoni: I’m not sure I should tell you._

Shepard cursed under her breath and tried to look up over the crowd and catch Liara’s eyes. After all the information that she had provided her, _now_ she was going to grow some kind of conscious?

_JShepard: Why not? Is it that bad?_

_LTSoni: It’s private._

_JShepard: It’s my privacy._

_LTSoni: It feels like a betrayal of trust._

_JShepard: You’ll get over it._

_LTSoni: You’re so emphatic._

_JShepard: I’m selfish and self-centered. I told you that. Now tell me._

_LTSoni: Guess._

Shepard cursed again and not under her breath. Several heads turned to look at her and she met Liara’s eyes briefly from across the way.

_JShepard: You’re serious._

_LTSoni: Yes._

_JShepard: Wrex._

_LTSoni: No._

_JShepard: Ash._

_LTSoni: No._

_JShepard: Garrus?_

_LTSoni: No. This is so much fun. The order of your choices is very revealing._

Jane rolled her eyes. The trip up to the Citadel wasn’t very long. Guessing by name would probably take too long. It would be better to narrow the list down a bit.

_JShepard: Is it a male?_

There was a long pause before Liara answered. Obviously she realized that Jane was taking the fun out of throwing names at her.

_LTSoni: Yes._

_JShepard: In the Alliance?_

_LTSoni: Yes._

Hmm. Jane contemplated the implications of that. That left: Joker, James, Jacob, Steve, and Adams, maybe. But Jacob, Steve and James would be eliminated since they weren’t on the SR1. And Adams seemed highly unlikely. 

_JShepard: Joker?_

_LTSoni: No._

What the fuck? Shepard thought on it a bit. 

_JShepard: Part of my crew?_

_LTSoni: No._

Jane stared at the little word for a long time. Never had she once thought that it wasn’t someone that was part of her crew. Who else the fuck could it be? Alliance. Male. Not part of her crew. Knew her well. Knew someone well enough to pull off this game for a few years. She would think it could’ve been Anderson, but he was no longer a viable option. Thinking of Anderson led her to think of someone else who had been around just as long. Another father figure of sorts. She looked surreptitiously around the shuttle before turning back to her omnitool.

_JShepard: Is he on this shuttle?_

There was another very long hesitation. If the answer was yes, it was obvious. It could only be one person. If the answer was no, then she didn’t have any idea who it might be. But it couldn’t be. The answer couldn’t be yes.

_LTSoni: Y-E-S._

Jane shut her omnitool down, not able to look at the three letter word for more than one millisecond. What. The. Fuck. The blood drained out of her face as she looked around and fuck if it didn’t feel like someone had messed with the inertia dampeners. _He_ was nowhere to be found. Admiral fucking Hackett? She shook her head, making a face. Straining her brain to figure out what this meant, to wrap her head around the implications of what this might mean. The man had never been anything but professional with her. Could he…?

“Everything alright, Shepard?”

The man himself was standing to her left, appearing out of nowhere and looking down at her worriedly. Judging by his expression, she must’ve looked a sight. “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking a bit before she cleared it. “Fine, sir. Everything’s fine.”

He stared at her for a long moment. His piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through her until they shifted to her left and he said, “Keep an eye on her, Vakarian.”

Garrus, ever alert, replied dutifully, “Yes, sir.” As she swallowed the large lump in her throat and watched Hackett turn and walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?” She whispered to Liara while they walked along a long corridor of the Citadel.

The good news was, there was no combat. The bad news was, there was no combat. Combat would’ve implied that there was at least someone left living to put up a fight. Unfortunately, it had become quickly apparent that there had been no survivors left on the huge space station. There was not one living thing left except the Keepers and they had, thankfully, begun the tedious task of cleanup.

“Yes,” Liara replied, turning down another corridor and gasping. “By the goddess, Shepard. This is awful.” 

Jane looked around. Even having seen it before didn’t lessen the shock any. “I know,” she replied. “Just keep walking. I think we’re close.”

They were headed for the archives. Her least favorite place on the Citadel after her infamous tete-a-tete with her clone. A few soldiers were walking ahead of them at the vanguard with Grunt, and Garrus and a few more were following several paces behind.

“I just,” Shepard continued once they had walked passed another few piles of dead bodies. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“What does that mean?” She asked sincerely. “Was it obvious? Am I that dense?” 

She never had been good at recognizing interest that went beyond work and friendship. Hell, she had found herself halfway to the aisle in Kaidan’s eyes until she got a clue and had to set him straight. Liara had been more straightforward and Jane had been able to steer them into friendship territory easily after that. And then there had been mixed signals with Jacob on the SR2. 

“No,” Liara soothed. “He played his cards very close to the vest, so to speak. I’ve seen you interact with him. I’m not surprised that it’s coming as a shock to you.”

“Pfft,” Jane snorted. “Interact with him? That’s putting it mildly.” She recalled some of their more recent interactions. “I was no less than a total shit wherever and whenever possible.”

Liara glanced over to her. “You were no less than a consummate professional wherever and whenever the situation required it.”

Jane tilted her head to one side, conceding the point. Even though she may have kicked and cursed after every one of those stupid, damnable missions that Hackett liked to send her on, she never once balked about it to him. And secretly, if she was totally honest, she liked doing things for him and would find herself putting out an extra effort to impress him on even the most mundane of his tasks. She wondered at that now.

Liara looked over at her and, as was usual, seemed to read into her innermost thoughts. “Some pieces coming together?” She asked with just a little bit of mirth in her voice.

“A corner or two,” Shepard replied, thinking. “A few edges, maybe.” Had her desire to impress Hackett been misconstrued by him? Or even worse, misconstrued by her? Was it just respect for a superior officer that had driven her to please him? Or something else? Was it possible to be so utterly oblivious to those kinds of feelings? “But the inside is still all a big jumble.”

Liara nodded but did not reply.

This was all so foreign to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t have an interest in a relationship and sex. Yes, she definitely missed sex. The solo relief that she had settled for over the past few years paled in comparison to the real thing, she knew. And it wasn’t that Kaidan, Liara or Jacob had necessarily been bad choices for potential partners. She just had never felt it to be the right _time_ or _place_. She had been so focused on the Reapers and the threat of total annihilation of civilization itself - romance seemed very superfluous and possibly pointless without a future to look forward to. So it had been shelved there in the back recesses of her mind which was why she seemed to always be taken totally off guard when members of her crew felt the need to proposition her.

But Admiral Hackett? It seemed so surreal. At least with Kaidan and Jacob and Liara, there had been some camaraderie, some laughs and drinks and personal chit chat that might’ve opened the door for a deeper friendship and then more. Maybe one too many pats on the shoulder after a successful mission or a word or two that was misinterpreted. But Hackett? Whenever he had spoken to her it was as if his emotions were in a straight jacket. Always the consummate professional. Always straight to the point and all business. Always. Could he have truly been interested in her this entire time?

She gouged those inner recesses of her brain trying to recall all of their interactions. Even those on a social level at ceremonies or on Arcturus. And no. This could in no way be a mistake on her part. There had definitely been no signals for her to have missed or misinterpreted. Unless she was misinterpreting the meaning behind the gifts themselves? Maybe they were given with no romantic intentions whatsoever? It could just be a friendship thing. Or respect for a fellow officer. Encouragement. Something to sharpen the tip of the Alliance's spear. But no, that didn’t feel right. No man would send gifts to a woman for years without some kind of romantic feelings behind it. Would he? 

She looked back over at Liara. “And your absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” she replied, exasperatingly. “I even delivered a damned few of them for him.”

“You-”

“Me, too,” another voice interjected as Kasumi fizzled into view. “The man is positively smitten with you, Shep. It’s kind of disgusting.”

“Kasumi,” Shepard shouted as the thief winked back out of existence. Exasperated herself now, she turned to look at Liara.

“What?” The asari asked. “It is kind of disgusting.”

Jane stopped walking and watched as Liara continued on ahead of her. Smitten? Well that certainly left little room for interpretation. _Smitten?_ Admiral Hackett? With her? It was ridiculous. Unless, she paused for a moment. Unless he was just as tunnel-visioned, awkward and clueless at romance than she was? That seemed as impossible as his interest in her. He seemed so...confident in everything he did. Suave. That word made her feel funny. But he was _old_. It was like thinking romantically of Anderson, wasn’t it? Was she even attracted to him? _Could_ she be attracted to him? Could their professional relationship survive it, if not? 

“You alright, Shepard?” Garrus’ dual-flanged voice came up from behind her and she jumped.

She looked up at Garrus. Kasumi knew. Liara knew. She wondered who else knew? Like, did Garrus somehow know? Had he played delivery man? Or delivery turian? “Nothing,” she said, deciding that she absolutely _hated_ other people knowing things that she didn’t. And she absolutely hated not knowing things. And she suddenly decided that Hackett probably had some payback coming before she got too googly-eyed over his secret advances. Especially if she wasn’t even sure if she was attracted to him. What had he been thinking this entire time? Was this all some sort of joke? Had he been laughing at her?

“C’mon, Shepard,” Garrus prodded. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” she replied as she walked along toward the archives and began to contemplate her options. 

The easiest thing to do would be to confront his fucking ass about it. But since when did she do the easy thing? What would she do on a battlefield if some fool sniper was taking pot shots at her from beneath a hidden cover? The _appropriate_ response in that situation would be to respond in kind. To lob an equal, if not more devastating salvo in the direction of the coward. To smoke the enemy out of hiding by any means possible. 

And if all else failed, to stalk him, flank him and take his ass out.


	4. Chapter 4

“What are we looking for again?”

Jane looked up at Garrus who was looming over her, rifle at the ready even though they hadn’t seen any hint of combatants since they arrived. “Detailed schematics of this space station,” she replied to him, looking back down at the terminal she was diligently trying to hack into.

“Right. Those seem like something that should be easy to find.”

She looked back up at him raising an eyebrow. “Really?” She said with a bit of challenge in her tone. “Is that some kind of wager?”

Garrus lowered his rifle down slightly and gave her what she recognized as the turian version of a smug smirk. “Maybe,” he said. “The question is: can you afford to lose?”

“I don’t plan on losing, but try me.”

“That new enhanced scope you got on your Widow.”

A rush of disbelief came out of her like a cough. “Damn, Vakarian,” she said around half a smile. “How long you been eyeing that one up?”

“Long enough,” he said seriously. “We got a deal?”

Jane looked back down at the terminal she had been working on. If anything, she had a headstart on him but Garrus was a damned good hacker. _And_ she loved that mod. But she liked a good challenge even better, so she looked up at him and said, “Deal.”

Her fingers were back on the keys and she smiled a little as she heard Garrus curse under his breath and scurry off to find his own terminal to work on. She didn’t know how many minutes or hours had passed when she heard the noise. Something muffled. A thud. It sounded familiar but Shepard couldn’t quite place it. She could only thank her ingrained combat instincts for the immediate tuck and roll that followed it. If it was nothing, she would look silly. If it was something, she would live to talk about it.

It was something.

The thud was followed by strange voices speaking in harsh, clipped tones and the distinctive sound of someone struggling. Jane crouched along the edge of the desks she had been working by and peeked around the corner.

“Don’t bother hidin’,” a scar-faced man said. “It’s you we want. No one else has to get hurt.”

Jane stood slowly. The scar-faced man was standing over a few face-down bodies in Alliance uniforms, either dead or stunned. He was holding Liara in front of him against his chest with a pistol pressed against her temple. Jane looked around the room. There were a few more armed men rounding up the other scientists that they had brought with them to the Archives. Garrus and Grunt were nowhere to be seen but she heard that distinct thudding sound again. 

Then it dawned on her. They were locked in and the others, Garrus and Grunt probably included, were trying to break in. The thudding was fists, and most probably other things, pounding on unforgiving durasteel.

“You make this quick,” the scar-faced man continued saying, “before all your friends get through that door and this won’t turn into no blood bath.”

Jane took a step to the side so that she had a better view of the room they were in.

“Don’t move!” The man yelled and Liara winced and whimpered as he pressed the pistol firmer against her head. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

Jane complied. She wasn’t unarmed. She had a holdout pistol at her ankle but now was not the time to go for it. Her eyes were taking in her surroundings and quickly surveying the situation. From outside of the room they were in she could hear shouts, radio chatter and other equipment. Their entire unit was on full alert and it wouldn’t be very long before they made their way inside. The room they were in was large and there was a balcony surrounding them on the floor above, much like the room where her clone had first revealed herself to her.

“What do you want?” Jane asked, knowing the first rule in a hostage situation was to keep them talking.

“I told you,” he said. “You.”

“Me? For what?”

“For whatever I fucking want,” he replied, jerking Liara against him, twisting her arm and making her scream out in pain.

“Don’t let him take you, Shepard,” Liara said.

“Shut up,” the scar-faced man screamed and flicked the safety off of his gun. “Shut up, you blue, fucking abomination. I told you to shut the fuck up.”

“Liara. Don’t talk.”

“You care about this asari bitch,” the man said. “You destroyed Cerberus for some fucking aliens.”

Cerberus. She was not surprised. Nobody bred fanatics like The Illusive Man, she had to hand that to him. “You’re Cerberus?” Jane asked.

The man shook his head. “I was. We were. Until you decided we weren’t needed any longer. We were good men. We were helping humanity. And now we’re nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” Jane replied, catching movement on the upper balcony but training her eyes on the kidnapper so as not to give anything away. “We’ve re-deployed hundreds of ex-Cerberus-”

“I don’t want to be ex-Cerberus!” He yelled. “I want me life back. The life you took.”

“I can help you.”

“You can’t,” the man said, growing calmer and morose. “I lost my wife and kids. We all lost our families.”

The other men were standing near him now and they were all looking at her. In their eyes she saw the hurt and the blame. The Great Commander Shepard. These men reminded her that that blade has two edges. To some she is a hero. To others…

“You don’t have anything to say,” the man said, eerily calm now. 

Jane knew that was a bad sign. Knew it, but didn’t know what she wanted to do about it. If she rushed him, grabbed for her pistol and started shooting she would probably live, especially if the movement up on the balcony was who she thought it was. But Liara would most probably die. And she knew she didn’t want that.

It all happened very slowly. Words were coming out of the scar-faced man’s mouth. Liara was struggling and screaming something at her and the man’s pistol was slowly and calmly being drawn away from Liara’s temple and turned to point at Jane. Looking down the barrel of that gun into the eyes of that stranger, Jane saw hatred and despair. She wasn’t suicidal, but she wasn’t afraid to die. Especially in a trade of her life for one of her own. So she stood, resolute and resigned. And she didn’t even flinch as he pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

Jane opened her eyes. Like a bad childhood dream she found herself back in that familiar hospital room. She recalled the bark of gunfire as the man had pulled the trigger. The sniper on the balcony, Garrus if her hunch was correct, hit him at just the same time causing his arm to jerk and the bullet to graze her neck and shoulder instead of piercing a hole into her forehead. She had fallen back and hit her head, probably on the desk behind her and that was the last thing that she remembered.

“Missed this place did you?”

Jane smiled as she turned her head toward the familiar voice. “You know me. I’m a sucker for clean sheets.”

Garrus stood from where he had been sitting and walked over to her. “Liara just stepped out. She’s been wearing a hole in the floor.”

“I bet. How long?”

“Not long. We sedated you for the ride down. You hit your head when you fell. That desk will never be the same.”

“Ha,” she replied, eyeing up her friend. Garrus was special to her. He had been another one of her crew that she thought she had skirted around attraction with. One of the only ones that she had ever thought of acting on it with. “Was that you?” She asked. “On the balcony?”

“What? You think it was Grunt?”

Laughing hurt. He could always make her laugh. Always keep her grounded. If she thought about it, that was probably why she never pursued anything with him. They were too damned good as friends. The other would just complicate things. Make it complicated in a cross-species, galactic precedent kind of way. Her inroads into alien-human relations elevated up to an entirely new stratosphere. Her professional life was already fodder for the newsvids, she didn’t want her personal one to be as well. “Thanks,” she replied. “I owe ya.”

“Yeah, you do,” Garrus replied ominously.

She knew him well enough to know that everything with him meant something. She thought back to the events of the day. To their bet. Her eyes tracked over to meet his very quickly. “You didn’t,” she said.

“That bullet must’ve rattled your cage a little, Commander. _You_ didn’t. But I most certainly did.”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Garrus’ smug expression was as annoying as it was endearing. “How? I don’t believe you.”

“That cuts deep, Shepard. Really deep.” Garrus’ eyes danced with amusement. “But if you don’t believe me, ask your boss. He’s heading this way.”

Garrus lifted his chin to indicate the hallway outside of her door. Sure enough, she could see Hackett walking down the corridor towards her. She had almost forgotten about the gifts and the implications of what they meant. About her plans to ambush him. About the tedious task of sorting her feelings out for him. And just when she began to get nervous about all of those things, a voice stopped him as he neared her doorway.

“Admiral,” the voice said. Jane recognized it as the doctor that had sat on her panel earlier. “And just what part of absolutely no combat did you not understand, pray tell me?”

“Doctor,” Hackett replied, his voice tight. “I beg your pardon but Shepard was the victim of an attack. That had nothing to do with the parameters of the mission that she was assigned.”

“Nothing to do with it? Had she not been there, then it wouldn’t’ve happened.”

“I beg to differ. If the group was set to kidnap the Commander, it could’ve just as likely happened here on Earth. Or anywhere else. If anything, I say she was better prepared and protected being surrounded by a full complement of soldiers.”

“Looks like your boss is in trouble,” Garrus mumbled.

“Looks like,” Jane agreed.

The turian shook his head. “If one thing is for certain, it’s that bureaucrats are the same everywhere.”

Shepard clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, remembering the fiery C-Sec officer she had met all those years ago struggling through bureaucratic red tape with a vengeance. “I hope that’s not all our time together has taught you.”

Garrus looked back down at her, his expression turning very serious. “Not all, no.” He looked down, grabbed her hand and held it in his. “Since I joined your crew, Commander, I’ve seen a lot down the scope of my rifle. Learned a lot. I could never repay you, I know. Not in credits, not with words.”

“Jeez, Garrus,” she said, feeling a little uncomfortable with the sudden serious turn of their conversation. “Am I dying and you didn’t tell me?”

“No, but I’ll be heading back to Palaven to help with the rebuild and I didn’t want to go without letting you know how much it all meant to me.”

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she laughed a little. “It meant alot to me, too.” The pair dumbly gazed at one another for a long time, an entire conversation wordlessly exchanged beneath the silence. In it she saw every sidelong glance they had shared while wading through the colorful myriad of personalties that she called her crew. Every laugh and curse. Every sobering moment. Every victory and defeat.

After awhile, Garrus squeezed her hand and said, “I owe you. Whatever you need, I’m forever in your debt and you always have a friend on Palaven.”

She smiled. “Does this mean I can keep my sniper mod?”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in a huge turian grin. “Not a chance,” he replied before the sound of a throat clearing broke up the exchange.

Garrus dropped her hand as she looked over to find Admiral Hackett standing at the door. “Admiral,” she greeted him. “I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble,” she added, lifting her chin to indicate the conversation he had just had outside of her door.

“No more than usual,” he answered before his eyes tracked over to Garrus. “Vakarian.”

“Admiral. I was just leaving.” Garrus rounded the bed and walked over to stand in front of the Admiral and saluting as he said, “It’s been an honor.”

Hackett returned the salute. “Same here,” he said as he grabbed the turian’s hand and shook it.

“Shepard?” Garrus said, turning to look back at her. “Answer your damned emails. Alright?”

“What about your mod?”

“I’ll accept hand delivery whenever you’re in the neighborhood.”

She nodded, liking the thought of visiting him on his home turf. “I’ll see ya.”

And with that, Garrus left the Admiral and Jane alone in the room. Hackett stood and watched the turian walk away for a long moment before he turned and took a couple of steps into Jane’s room and towards her bed. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied, rolling her sore shoulder and taking pains not to wince. “I should be able to go home today. Again,” she added with a slight chuckle.

“You’ll report for desk duty tomorrow,” he said matter-of-factly and when she opened her mouth to protest he held up his hand to stop her. “No arguments. That’s an order.”

There was something serious in his demeanor. Jane thought it might have something to do with the dressing down he had just received outside of her room and even as a child, she had known when to push the boundaries and when to fall in line. This was one of those few times where she thought it better to just fall in line. “Understood,” she replied, unable _not_ to sound just a little bit disgruntled.

“Good,” Hackett said, nodding. He looked just slightly surprised that she had not argued more than that. And then a look passed over him, something Shepard couldn't quite place before he abruptly said, “Good day, then.”

He spun on his heels and left and his departure was so sudden that Jane hardly had time to process it before he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break! It's been crazy.

Jane slowly walked the perimeter of the Admiral’s office. She had been on desk duty for a few weeks now, sitting in a cubicle only about a dozen feet away from her secret admirer. And yet, she felt further away from him than she ever had while flying around the galaxy with honest-to-god lightyears separating them. She trailed a finger over a jagged piece of bright orange coral that sat on a bookshelf and pressed her lips together tightly. 

Something had happened between them. Something that had wormed itself awkwardly inside of every word, look and exchange they shared now and she had no idea what it was or what she could do about it. Her eyes trailed over one of the small sailboats constructed inside of a bottle and then tracked over to an old, wood-framed photograph propped up in the corner of the top shelf. There was a young man on a sailboat in it, handsome with his sun-kissed skin and the hint of smile across his lips as the wind whipped through his chestnut hair. She thought it might be the Admiral himself. The Admiral whose gift-giving had ceased just as mysteriously as it had started all those years ago. The Admiral, who when for the first time in her life she had the occasion and the inclination to pursue romantic feelings for another living being, was treating her like she had contracted the bubonic plague. She recognized that smile, though. The one on the young man in the picture. She had been on the receiving end of one of those smiles on more than one occasion in her life. Each one a wasted opportunity. She could see that now. 

“What are you doing in here, Shepard?”

Nearly jumping out of her skin by his unexpected entrance, she spun around toward that familiar voice. The voice that even laced with coolness, could warm her to the core. She smiled in spite of his gruff greeting. “Nice to see you, too, Sir.” He walked purposefully into his office, around his desk and then took a seat. She looked back over to the bookshelf that she had been studying and squinted at the old photograph that had caught her eye. “What’s this?” She asked, pointing.

For a long time, while she studied the line of the sails and the cut of the old, wooden hull, silence was her only answer. Finally, taking a deep breath in and turning around to face him, she crossed her arms over her chest, planted her feet firmly beneath her and waited. 

A few more long moments passed as he prodded at the datapads strewn out in front of him with his shiny, silver stylus. Then, with a long-inhaled breath of his own, he raised his eyes to look at her and then over to the object that she had been referring to and back down to refocus on whatever piece of information that he had been studying prior to her question. “A ship,” he replied curtly.

“I can see that,” she quipped. “What kind of ship? Was it yours? Is that you? Where is that?” She turned to take in the other items on his shelf, the pictures and the knick knacks that she had been surveying before he entered. Many of the books were military regs or leadership training manuals but most of the more personal items leaned toward a definite nautical theme. “Do you like to sail?”

She heard another long-suffering breath. “I don’t have time for this, Shepard. And I suspect you don’t, either.”

“C’mon,” she chided, turning around and giving him a broad smile only to find it wasted on the top of his head because his eyes were still buried in datapads and clippings. This was getting ridiculous. How had he turned from her secret admirer to this complete stranger? Usually she was more aware of her actions and their obvious outcomes. There was absolutely no need to guess at why the Council and Udina had hated her. But this? This was killing her. “Sir?” She asked and with only the slightest hesitation he raised his eyes to look at her. “Would it kill you to answer just one of my questions?”

He sighed and his eyes tracked over to the framed photograph that she had originally asked about. “Yes, that boat was mine and that is me, sailing on the Rio de la Plata off the coast of Argentina. She was a Spirit 46.” A flash of warmth had filled his eyes at the memory before he looked back down at his desk and finished with a crisp, “And yes, I like to sail.”

She stood there still staring at him. Well, he _had_ answered every one of her questions, she thought. Except the last. She gave one last glance at the ship in the photograph and then walked towards his desk. “Now, did that kill you?”

“No,” he answered quickly, looking up at her. “You know what is killing me? The fact that you’re standing here wasting time while I’m looking at my inbox which is entirely void of your morning reports.”

“Those reports are complete bullshit,” she snapped. “They don’t tell you anything you don’t already know and I don’t know what kind of brainless fool even thinks they’re necessary.”

“Each _brainless fool_ you send the reports to think they're necessary, including me. They’re _required_ and it’s your job. Now, get to it. _Please_.” And with that, he once again returned to his seemingly enthralling stack of data pads.

In the old days he would’ve coddled her. Telling her how he understood how hard it was for her to sit tied to a desk and keyboard when she was so used to the life of a Commander on her own vessel. Reminding her that it was only temporary and encouraging her to keep her chin up while bribing her with promises of desserts at lunch. But those days were long gone.

She sighed. Those reports were bullshit, no matter what he said. And so was this. So, why didn’t she tell him that, too? She swallowed. “Have I done something to offend you, sir?” She had meant to sound contrite but it came out more accusatory than she had planned. There was nothing to be done about that now, however, so she just watched his hands freeze where they were on his holographic interface as his eyes remained cast downward at his desk. So, she continued, trying harder this time to keep her tone gentle. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve been...distant with me.”

She suffered through another long pause consumed with his silence, this one more excruciating than any of the others. It hurt her more than she thought it would, this apparent cooling of his ardor. Afterall, his gift-giving could’ve been nothing more than a morale booster for a subordinate. She wasn't even supposed to know that it had been him. She could've been reading this entire situation all wrong. But then why did she feel like she had lost...everything?

The Admiral slowly lifted his eyes toward her. “Shepard,” he said after some unknown conversation seemed to pass through his own head indicated by an assortment of emotions flitting across his face. “You’ve done nothing to offend me. But, I…,” he hesitated, his expression returning to its new stoic norm. “I really need those reports.”

She swallowed again, feeling something inside of her chest twist uncomfortably and break free before she replied, “Yes, sir.” And she turned and left.


End file.
